Pyro Vs The Base
by freeSocks
Summary: For a bit of practice, I decided to write a romance story. My friends told me it was pretty good, so I'm uploading it here. Basically, BLU gets a new Pyro, it's a girl, the RED one falls in love, yadda, yadda, yadda, nothing you haven't seen before. Enjoy, I guess.
1. Chapter 1

**I've always considered myself to be terrible at writing romance. But, as it seems, romantic plots, subplots and the like are all what's up these days, so I figured I'd give it a shot, at least just for practice. So here's this. It mostly came from me installing Corvello's Fempyro, which is a nice, not-crazily-over-sexual Fempyro. Enjoy.**

* * *

The RED Pyro of Upward did not consider himself a falling-in-love sort of individual. At least, not with people. Fire, sure, but people- that was damn near unthinkable.

But, as is the way of things, that is exactly what happened.

It was the Scout's fault, of course.

He had barged into the Pyro's room at the ungodly hour of four in the morning, waving around a bag full of something smelly and shouting for the firebug to get up. The Pyro, of course, pulled his pillow over his head and willed himself not to set the Scout on fire, a task he was sure he would fail if-

The Scout jabbed Pyro's side with his fingers, and Pyro decided that patience was not an option. He pulled a can of spray deodorant and a lighter from his bedside table, pointed them in the Scout's general direction, and let loose.

The Scout had been expecting this. He simply stepped back out of the impromptu flamethrower's range, grinning childishly.

"Ha! Knew that'd get ya," he smirked "Listen, Toasty, I need ya help."

The Pyro, had he been wearing his mask, would have muttered something nonsensical and left the Scout to figure it out. He was not wearing it due to the Medic's insistence, however, ("Your lungs are bad enough as it is! I do not want to have to deal with you dying every ozzer night!") so he simply glared at the Scout, buried the lower half of his face under a couple of blankets, and _then_ muttered something nonsensical.

Unfortunately, the Scout had opted against trying to translate gibberish. He grabbed the poor pyromaniac's covers and pulled.

"Come on! You promised months ag- augh! Jeez, dude, get some PJs!"

Pyro looked at the young man's startled expression with one of bemusement. For God's sake, how long had the team demanded he not wear his suit everywhere as some bizarre show of camaraderie? If they saw his junk, it was their fault, not his.

Nonetheless, he grabbed a singed and dirty old pair of boxers off his bedside table and covered himself. He started to get dressed, too, because he knew the Scout well enough to know that he wasn't going to be getting back to sleep while the Scout was still breathing.

 _We could fix that_ said a voice in his head. He told the voice to shut it; he had already tried to murder the Scout a minute ago and it wouldn't be sporting to try again so soon.

The runner was fidgeting again. The Pyro knew why, of course: this guy had been a replacement for their old Scout after the old one got eighty-sixed by some rival gang while on break in Boston. But that had nothing to do with what was going down tonight.

When this Scout had first arrived, the enemy Spy had broken in and stolen every piece of baseball memorabilia he could carry, and then raffled it off in bits to both teams. The BLUs had mostly destroyed it, but some of the smarter REDs had used it to blackmail the beleaguered Bostonian."Oh, there's stickies up ahead? Well, boy, you better clear 'em or Cy Young here _gets it_." In fact, Pyro still had a rookie Rico Petrocelli and a couple Yogi Berras, just in case.

Blackmail was the last thing on the Pyro's mind, though, because tonight, they were going to continue that long standing tradition of pranking newbies. The BLU Spy and Pyro had been on shopping duty at Ward, the nearby port town, when an eighteen-wheeler carting gasoline decided it'd give them a Viking funeral. Their replacements came in today, and as the newest member of the team, it was the Scout's job to organize the prank.

The Pyro finished dressing, pulled his mask on, and followed the Scout out of the room while the latter briefed him on their upcoming prank, and _mffmph_ ed occasionally when his teammate got off track.

"...so youse guys told me, 'hey, we need ya to do a prank on these losers,' and I was like, hell yeah! I am the king of pranks. I remember back home, this one kid was smartmouthin' me an' my brothers, and we took him out to the baseball field and strung 'im up by 'is-"

"Mmphh."

"Right, right. So I though, 'what's the best prank to pull on a Spy and Pyro?' So I figures, well, Spys hate gettin' dirty, and Pyros love fire, right? So I think, how could I use those things against 'em? An then it hits me-flaming crap. Check it out!"

He said the last words just as they arrived at their destination. Pyro followed the Scout into the base's garage and immediately did a double take. The Scout certainly hadn't-no pun intended- half-assed his end of the bargain. A half asleep Demoman and no less than thirty bags filled with... the stuff sat in front of him. The Pyro didn't let himself overthink it. That was just nasty.

"It's all Soldier's," Scout said, grinning, "We told 'im that the Commies had been spying through the sewers ta steal American poop technology. Had 'im crappin' in bags for three weeks!"

"Whuh."

"Yeah, I know. So here's the plan: we're gonna set the bags all out in front a' their livin' quarters, you're gonna light them up, I knock on their doors, Demo puts stickies in the middle a' the crap, and as soon as they open up- boom! Ya got dat?"

"Uh-huh."

"Awesome. Grab a few bags and let's go."

He heaped about twelve of the little paper baggies into Pyro's arms and most of the rest into Demo's, before grabbing what was left and running excitedly out the door. The two remaining mercenaries shared a look, before Demo just shrugged and followed the runner, with Pyro close behind him.

/***/

 **Thanks for any and all reviews, and the next bit should be out soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

The BLUs' housing area was about a thirty minute walk from the REDs'. The Pyro and the Demo were completely fine with getting there when they got there. The Scout, on the other hand, was having to wait up for them every ten seconds or so, because he was not the walking type.

"Come _on,_ guys! I wanna get there before the sun comes up! For Crissake, hurry up!"

The Demoman and Pyro caught up with the speedster for what seemed the hundredth time, only for him to run off _again._

"Bit like ownin' a wee little dog, innit?" the Demoman grumbled, "Always runnin' round, yappin' its head off."

Pyro snorted from behind his mask. They walked on, catching up to the Scout again.

"Let's go let's go let's go _let's go let's-"_

"Alright, lad, calm down! S'not like the BLUs are gonna go anywhere!"

/**/

In retrospect, Demo had jinxed them. They had arrived at the BLU base as planned, and begun to set up their prank.

As they laid their trap, the Pyro took a moment to be jealous of the BLUs. They actually got their own little houses, while all RED had was some crappy two-floor apartment building. He supposed it had to do with the territory they had. The BLUs were at the lowest part of the little mountain they fought on, while the REDs got the top. There wasn't as much space closer to the peak, and most of it was clogged up with mining stuff. Not much room for living.

Oh well. Maybe he could consider this to be payback for all the times he had to listen to the Heavy's snoring. He stepped back and admired his work. His new counterpart's front porch was now covered haphazardly in crap-bags, all sitting there nice and ready for him to light them up. The Scout and Demo had done the same to the Spy's front porch, and the Demo had already placed the sticky in the middle. Pyro figured that he might as well do his bit, too, so he took out one of his lighters and moved to set his bags ablaze.

Then someone grabbed his hand, and he nearly dropped his lighter in shock. A gloved hand, an oddly-familiar gloved hand, had him by the wrist. He followed the hand up the arm and up to his assailant's face.

Well, mask. An eerily-similar-to-his mask, to be specific.

"Whu urr yuh _duhung?"_

He wasn't really focused on what the new Pyro was saying. He was a little too focused on something that was _not_ very familiar.

An asbestos-lined suit isn't very flattering. An overly-baggy one over a skinny (and admittedly small-chested) frame doubly so. But when one hasn't seen a member of the opposite sex in a _very_ long time, things like that tend to go out the window.

The Pyro was suddenly glad that he was wearing a baggy old pair of jeans and not the bike shorts that he'd almost put on. He was also suddenly glad that he'd chosen to wear his eye-covering mask, because he was most certainly looking this lovely creature in the face (well, mask), and not an _inch_ lower.

"Hurro? Hurro?"

She was tapping on his mask with her knuckles. He needed to say something. Why wasn't he saying anything?

"Hurro? Herro-oh?"

She had shrugged her shoulders and walked back to her little house. She was _leaving_. He had to do something. He reached deep within himself, trying to find his voice-and then the door clicked shut. He let drop a hand that he hadn't noticed reaching out with, and had himself a tragic little moment.

He had not noticed his teammates squabbling about sticky placement behind him. Likewise, they had ignored him.

A notion struck the Pyro. He had- _had-_ to impress this girl. He couldn't see an alternative. He wracked his brain. What did he know about her? Um... she was pretty... and a Pyro. A Pyro! She had to like fire, right? What could he burn, what could he burn... the bags!

Any and all intent of pranking anybody had slipped his mind. All he knew was that he needed to burn something, and those bags were flammable. But it had to be pretty. Girls liked pretty things. He set to work.

In his frantic quest to arrange the bags of crap in a more decorative pattern, he didn't notice Demo stumble over to place a sticky in the middle of his bags. He was so distracted by his work that he didn't notice the Scout sneak over and filch a lighter from his jeans' pocket.

And tragically, most of all, after he'd finished setting the bags ablaze and knocked on the BLU Pyro's door, he didn't notice Scout running off from the BLU Spy's door, having already ding-dong-ditched him.

The next three things happened in rapid succession.

The BLU Spy opened his door and stood, horrorstruck (with his mouth open) at what was in front of him.

The BLU Pyro opened her door and stared, dumbfounded, at the fifteen flaming bags of crap arranged in the shape of a heart on her doorstep.

And finally, the Scout snatched the detonator from a very flabbergasted Demoman while the latter stared at their Pyro's handiwork.

When Scout pressed the button, he was the only one who had gotten clear of the blast radius. The rest of those present could only recoil in horror at what they were now covered in.

During the ensuing chase and firefight, the Pyro could only think of how repulsed his counterpart had been. Demoman, however, could only consider how appropriate the BLU Spy's response was:

" _MON DIEU!"_

 **Hehehe.**


	3. Chapter 3

"Huh."

"Wot? Wot 'appened?"

The RED Engineer sat at a computer display, scratching his chin. RED Sniper was behind him, in the hall, having stopped to investigate in the middle of carrying in a new shipment of jars.

"Says here that Scout went through respawn..." The Engineer paused as he re-read the screen. "...four times this morning."

"Huh."

"My thoughts exactly."

There was a brief moment of silence.

"So, uh, any specific cause a' death, or are you gonna let me guess, Truckie?"

"No, no. Let's see-uh, burned, blown up, drowned and... strangled."

"Yeesh."

"Mm-hm."

Another silence.

"Well, if that's all-"

"Yeah, I, uh-"

"See ya."

"Yep."

/**/

"...look, while I'll agree that you settin' me on fire was _kinda_ justified, I gotta say, the whole 'drown then strangle' bit was just uncalled for."

" _You're_ uncalled for."

"Jesus, Mumbles, you wound me."

"Good."

The Pyro was, to say the least, not happy with the Scout. His jeans, his favorite shirt, and worst of all, his mask were all being subjected to a very thorough washing at the moment. He himself had showered what felt like a hundred times, and he _still_ didn't smell right.

"I was bein' sahcastic, asshole."

"I know."

"Bullshit."

" _You're_ bullshit."

"Jesus, man, we need to teach you how to insult people."

"Bite me."

The Heavy rolled his eyes. He was trying to enjoy his morning bowl of oatmeal, but these two had been going back and forth like this for around twenty minutes now, and it was starting to give him a headache. Fortunately for the Heavy, he was not one to beat around the bush.

"Leetle men are giving Heavy headache," he said, "They should probably be stopping, before he gives one to _them,_ Da?"

Pyro immediately stopped talking. The Heavy had been on the team the longest. Everyone else had either been swapped in from another base or was a replacement for someone who had actually died. As such, he was the _de facto_ leader of the group.

But that didn't stop the base's resident twerp from being less of, well, a twerp. (Scout'd grown up in a house full of older brothers, and the Heavy thought _threats_ would shut him up? Dumbass.)

"Like to see you _try it,_ fatass."

"Heavy will not try. Heavy _will._ "

"My ass he will!"

"Your ass it is, then."

And with that, the Heavy stood, and with one hand, slammed the Scout's head into the table before the other could react. Then he picked up his oatmeal and went to eat in his room.

"Yeah, that's right..." Scout groaned from the floor, "Sucker punch me and run off.. frickin' wuss..."

Unfortunately for the Scout, the Heavy wasn't quite out of earshot.

/**/

Another mark appeared on the screen, making the total five. Engie leaned forward to look at the little label next to it, which read _dismembered._

"Huh," he said.

/**/

Three days had been allotted for the new BLUs to adjust to their team. That mean the RED Pyro had three days to formulate a plan of approach. So far, all had was "run at her." It wasn't a very sound plan.

Luckily, he had an inside source to the female mind. He knocked on the door.

"Heavy."

The Heavy opened the door. It was well known around the base that he had several sisters, so the less experienced in the area of women were invited to learn from him. (Less experienced being Pyro and, though he'd never admit it, Scout.)

"Hm?" Heavy grunted, "yes, what does leetle fire-man want?"

Pushing aside his offense at being called a fireman, the Pyro cleared his throat and said:

"I need your help. It's a girl."

The Heavy's eyes widened, and he gestured for Pyro to enter. Heavy's room was surprisingly tidy, thought the Pyro. Even more so than Engie's. The big guy sat down upon his bed, and gestured towards a stool next towards his nightstand.

"So!" he said as the Pyro took his seat, "Leetle man is not into other leetle men after all. Hmph. Doktor owes me thirty dollars."

"What?"

"Doktor and I had 'friendly wager.' Said something about uneven pointing and ring fingers."

He looked at his own hand.

"Strange. Heavy's are uneven, and yet... eh, it is no matter. So! Who is the lucky girl, eh? Did you meet her while getting groceries?"

"Er..."

The Pyro fidgeted. He hadn't really considered what the Heavy would think about him crushing on a member of the enemy team.

"Uh-yeah, yeah. Yes, I did."

"What is her name?"

"Er-Jessica?"

"Hmm."

The Heavy was very quiet for a bit. He reminded the Pyro of his dad, or, at least what memory had remained in his drug-addled brain. That sort of quiet, dignified wisdom that made it seem like they knew everything.

"Pyro, have you ever read _Romeo and Juliet?_ "

Or maybe they did know everything.

"Uh, I think. Back in high school, maybe?"

"Ach, Pyro, you should wear your mask if you wish to bluff Heavy. You have terrible poker face."

"Alright, I never read the book. You can probably guess what I did with it."

"Yes, I can. I can guess other things as well."

"Like what?"

"Well, I could guess that, no matter what, all Spies are gossipy babies like ours."

The Pyro was a little confused by this seeming non-sequitur before it clicked.

"Son of a _bitch_."

"Yes, Spy is quite the leetle son-of-bitch."

"He saw."

"Yes."

"He told you."

"Yes."

"So you know who she is."

"I had hoped Spy was lying. But I had to speak to you to be sure."

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, you are not. Pyro, sit back down."

"Oh yeah? And who's going...to..."

The Heavy had risen to his full, considerable height, answering the Pyro's question without even saying a word.

"You are going to stay. And Heavy will teach you all you need to know about girls. Now, sit."

The Pyro too his seat, and the lesson began.


	4. Chapter 4

To the Pyro's surprise, the Heavy was actually a pretty good teacher. After laying down the ground rules ("Do not brag. Do not be mean. Give compliments. Always, _always_ hold open the door."), they started to get down to the specifics.

"So. She is like you?" asked the Heavy.

"Hm? I... guess?"

"So she is Pyro?"

"Yes...?"

"Hm. Do you know if she still taking crazy pills?"

"Er..."

The Pyro wracked his brain. It'd been so long since he'd stopped taking the drugs Mann Co. gave him, he had trouble remembering the symptoms.

"I think she might have been. She was talking to me like I was some sort of small dog, after all."

"Hmm. And do you remember what sort of things you enjoyed back when you were like that?"

Back then... the Pyro didn't really like to think about it. Mann Co. had picked him up off the street a drugged-out loon, dusted him off, given him a flamethrower and drugged him out a little more. He'd seen the world as a sugar bowl for months until the Medic had taken pity on him and started replacing the Pyroland pills with placebos.

"Maybe... arms? I think?"

Of course, he had freaked out after finding out that his flower garden was a bucket full of severed limbs and that his Christmas lights had been intestines, but he'd gotten over it pretty quick. He wasn't against killing for profit, but had decided the whole "get high and make a pillow fort out of limbless torsos" bit wasn't for him. And so Mann Co. let him stay off the pill, as long as he provided results.

Wait, he had an idea...

"Heavy?"

The Heavy had been sitting patiently, waiting for the Pyro to think of something.

"Yes?" he said, "you think of something, Pyro?"

"What if... what if we got her off the pill right away?"

The Heavy considered this for a moment.

"Is bad idea."

"What? Why?"

"Because to do that we'd have to go to BLU Doktor's house."

"So?"

"So, the only one sneaky enough for that is Spy."

"So?!"

"Spy hates Pyros. He would never agree to help."

"Oh. Right."

"And you cannot go, either."

"Why not?"

"Because BLU has seen you before and will kill you."

Pyro's shoulders sagged.

"Yeah, I guess you're..."

But then it clicked.

"Wait a minute."

"What?"

"Heavy-my mask. BLU's never seen me without my mask!"

The Heavy's mouth dropped into a comical _o,_ but then split into a wide grin just as fast.

"Ha, ha! Leetle man, I have underestimated you! Is great idea."

"But-everything I have to wear is red. They'll spot me in a second."

The excitement in the room died down. The Heavy looked very disappointed in himself for missing this key point. They were both silent for a moment, until a voice on the other side of the door spoke up.

"Yo," it said, "I think I've got an idea."

/**/

Once the Heavy had gotten over his initial anger at being eavesdropped upon (and by _Scout_ , no less) they had let the runner enter the room.

"So, ya got the hots for yourself, eh, Mumbles?"

"Wait," Pyro said, "I thought you hated the BLUs?"

"Well, yeah, but she's like, new, so she can't be a total scumbag yet. And hell, back at 2Fort, where I used to run before I got sent here, we had a chick on the other team. And yeah, before you ask, yeah, I totally banged her."

This was all said very fast. The Scout had obviously had a Bonk! or two after his latest trip through respawn. Pyro couldn't blame him. Too many trips through the system left a guy dehydrated as hell.

"So, uh..." Pyro said, "What's your-"

"Who was this 'chick?'" The Heavy cut him off.

"The Medic," Scout replied without hesitation.

"Pfeh. As if Doktor would let you-"

" _Guys,"_ Pyro cut in. Scout was probably just saying that to antagonize Heavy, but he didn't want to risk a fight starting right now. He had more important things to worry about.

"Right, sorry, dude," the Scout said, "Anyways, here it is- _Miss Pauling._ "

"What does leetle-"

"I'm gettin' there, Tubby, I'm gettin' there. So, she ain't been here in months, right?"

"Yes, but-"

"So what if she got fired, and they hired somebody new?"

"Well, that seems like it could happen, but-"

"So, what if they hired Pyro here?"

"Scout, what are you-"

"What I'm sayin' is, why don't we go down to the town, buy Pyro here some nice, _purple_ clothes, and _then_ let him go to the BLU base?"

The Heavy was quiet for a moment, apparently waiting to see if the Scout was done talking.

"Plan is..." he said, apparently struggling with complementing the Scout, "...okay."

"Okay?" Scout said, indignant, "It's a genius plan!"

"I have heard better."

"Whatevah, you're just jealous."

"Meh. Pyro, what do you think?"

They both turned to face him.

"It's, u-uh," he stuttered, quailing a bit under their combined stares, "It's, it's a good plan. I think it might work."

The Scout smirked and shot a smug look at the Heavy, but the big guy just shrugged. Still triumphant (but looking a little disappointed at the lack of a reaction), Scout turned back to Pyro.

"I'll see if I can steal Hardhat's keys again," he said, "But I'm drivin'."

/**/

After Scout swiped the Engineer's keys and narrowly avoided a sixth tick, the three of them had piled into the truck. They were currently on the road to the road to Ward, and the Scout and Heavy were currently engaged in a discussion about ambush tactics.

"...well, yeah, hidin' 'round corners if fine, if ya like gettin' shot in the face."

"Hmmph. Maybe if leetle man learned to take bullet or two he would not have such a tiny baby mindset."

"Screw you, fatcakes. At least I don't get sniped every thirty seconds."

"Yes. Instead, you get killed by sentry, blown up by Soldier, burned in fire-"

"I get the point, Tubby."

"-fall off cliff, shot by sentry again, blown up by sticky trap-"

"At least I _get kills."_

"Pfeh. I could kill more men with Sasha without even firing a bullet."

"The hell's that even mean?"

"It means Sasha is heavy, and and Heavy can swing her _very hard."_

"'Sasha is Heavy?' What, _you're_ the gun now?"

"No, it means Sasha weighs many kilos."

"So you're calling her fat?"

"No! Heavy would never-"

" _Guys,"_ the Pyro cut in once again, "I'm already nervous about going out with no mask on, alright? So cut it out before I set you _both_ on fire."

They both fell quiet. No one spoke for the next thirty seconds, until...

"Leetle man is lucky Sasha not here to-"

"That's _it_!"


	5. Chapter 5

After they had pulled the car over and put out the various fires on their persons (Pyro often forgot he wasn't fireproof without his suit), they pulled into Ward.

Visits here were often strange for Pyro. No fighting, no yelling, there was a fire department (eugh), and people here just... got along.

That, and Mann Co. had done what they always did to towns too close to the battlefield: slipped the townsfolk so many drugs that they could barely walk straight.

They found their way to the dinky little tailor's shop downtown. There was a blurry-eyed lady with a beehive at the front desk, so they walked up to her. Noticing someone entering her shop, she corked the wine bottle she'd been nursing and sloppily tried to hide it in her lap. There was a full thirty seconds after that where she ignored them to focus on the cigarette she held, apparently hoping that they would leave. When they did not, she sighed dramatically, rested her chin on her hand, and asked, in a harsh voice,

"Whaddya want?"

The three of them were all taken aback for a moment at said harshness. Even Pyro, with his ravaged lungs, didn't sound that raspy. Scout was the first to recover.

"Uh, yeah, we need a suit," he said, then paused a bit, obviously coming up with a lie, "It's for my weddin'."

"Well, alright," she sighed again, "I'll check in the back, see if we still sell suits in kid sizes."

"What?" said the Scout, "It ain't for me! It's for him!"

He pointed at the Pyro.

"Oh, so you two're gettin' together?" she said as she smirked and took another draw from her cigarette, "How progressive."

"That is incorrect," the Heavy cut in before Scout could retort, "He is best man."

"So what's that make you, the bride-to-be?" she said.

"No. I am the father."

"Oh! So it's a mail order bride."

The Heavy took a step forward, scowling. Pyro put a both hands on his chest, trying desperately to hold him back.

"Listen, lady," the Scout said, irritated, "We just need to get my friend here a suit, alright?"

"Alright, alright," she said, "How big's your retarded friend here?"

"Lady, you're pushin' a very thin line heah," Scout threatened, his accent becoming more pronounced with frustration, "I might haveta go back on my policy ah' not hittin' women!"

"Like you have the _balls_ , chicken wing."

"Okay, that is _it!_ "

He rushed forward, and Pyro was forced to grab his collar with his free hand. The lady stood up, overturning the the wine bottle. It rolled under the desk and ended up next to Pyro.

"Oh, so you're trying to _assault_ me now?!" the lady was yelling.

"Damn right!"

"I'm calling the police!"

"Let 'em try me!"

" _Scout!"_ Pyro finally spoke up, "I just... need... a suit!"

The lady had run over to a phone in the back, and began dialing 911.

"And I hope whatever bitch you're ritzin' up for _fucks off and dies!"_ she shrieked.

Pyro forced himself to remember that this was Scout's imaginary fiancé they were talking about, and not his crush. He was not successful.

After the incident, Pyro would say the Heavy had pushed past him. He'd say that he'd desperately tried to grab the back of his shirt, but the big guy was too fast for him. He'd also say, that in a fit of rage, Heavy had crossed the room, took the phone from the woman, and then whacked her over the head with it before she could protest.

/**/

After a ten-minute search for something in Pyro's size, they walked out of the tailor's with a new violet suit. Scout was still looking shocked, and Heavy was silent but looked impressed. Both of them had said nothing as Pyro took the wine bottle of the floor, wrapped a piece of scrap cloth around the neck, and then proceed to take his newly made Molotov and torch the place.

Heavy stated simply that he would be driving, as the Scout was still gawking at Pyro. They were about ten minutes down the road before Scout finally spoke.

" _Dude."_

"Hm?"

Pyro looked up. He'd been too busy fuming to pay any attention to Scout.

"Dude."

"What?"

"You were like, _mad._ "

"So? I get mad, you've seen me mad."

"No, but that was like..." the Scout leaned back in his seat, apparently at a loss for words. "Dude."

"Was pretty impressive," Heavy said, "It take much strength to collapse skull in one strike. _Without_ baseball bat," he added as the Scout opened his mouth to speak.

"But, have you even-" Scout cut back in, "Have you even _noticed_?"

"Noticed what?" Pyro asked, irritated.

Scout pointed at Pyro's shirt. The firebug was absolutely _covered_ in blood.

"You're crazier than I thought," Scout said. He sounded awed.

"Am not."

"You don't see me covered in blood."

"Yes I do. It's kinda part of our job."

"He means the blood of others," Heavy said, "Not own blood, like Scout is usually covered in."

"Great," Scout said, slumping down in his seat and pouting, "We're back to this."

"Well, is...how do you say—hippo in the room?"

"Elephant, dumbass."

"Yes, that. Is hard for Heavy to _not_ mention it."

"Oh, yah wanna start with dat, huh?" Scout grumbled, obviously still a bit peeved from their recent encounter, "If we're gonna talk about elephants in the room we might as well talk about you and your 'good friend' Medic."

"Scout, you bring this up almost every time you and I argue."

"'Cause it's the _elephant in the room._ "

"Besides, what is even point of—"

"'Oh, Dok-tor, _Dok-tor!_ '" the Scout said, throwing a hand to his forehead and leaning back dramatically, "Heal me harder!"

"Stop that."

"'Oh, dah, dah! Uber me!'"

"Is да, not _dah_."

"Guys," Pyro cut in, rolling his eyes. While the banter they almost _constantly_ had going was amusing at times, the sheer excess that they had bantered today—bantered, was that even a word? Nevermind—was getting to be obnoxious.

But, once again, the resident twerp couldn't be contained.

"Does Sasha know you're two-timin' on her?"

Heavy slammed on the breaks. Both Pyro and Scout smacked their heads on the dash.

Heavy turned to face Scout.

"Do not. Bring up. Sasha. Understand?"

"Dude, my freakin' _nose_. Give a guy some warnin' before you pull a stunt like tha—"

" _Understand?"_

"Alright, jeez, fine!"

The Heavy sniffed and turned back to the road. They resumed driving as Scout pinched his nose and sulked. After what seemed like an eternity, they rolled up to their base. Scout jumped out as soon as the truck slowed to around his normal speed.

"Frickin' finally! Eat my-"

He crashed face first into the Engineer. The Scout fell back, square on his ass in front of Engie, and although they couldn't see the texan's eyes, every merc present knew he'd have that look he got when a Spy managed to sap his machines.

"All of you. Inside. _Now._ " he growled through clenched teeth, "I'm thinking we need to have a little _talk_ about takin' another man's property."


End file.
